


R and R

by beltainefaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Mycroft Holmes, Cane, Friends to Lovers, Impact Play, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Tawse, Top Greg Lestrade, beginning relationship, scene negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: An accident with rope leads Mycroft, and Greg, to unexpected happiness.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 23
Kudos: 169
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	R and R

**Author's Note:**

> The person who prompted this fic wishes to stay anonymous: Thank you so much for choosing me. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you Merindab (janto321) for being an amazing beta, helping me get over a rough patch in the writing, and cheerleading so I could finish.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to nottoolateforthegame who caught an embarrassing typo (fixed now).

Mycroft pulled the crisply pressed French cuffs of his shirt down and slipped his monogrammed cuff links in place, grateful for the shirt’s close tailoring. They’d stay down, covering the raw skin where he’d managed to give himself a slight burn getting out of the ropes the night before. 

_Shouldn’t have left the shears on the side table,_ he thought ruefully. They had proved just a bit too far once the ropes slipped and tightened. He’d never been stuck before and he’d uncharacteristically panicked for just a moment, thrashing in the bonds, fearing to be just one more politician caught in a compromising situation. Cliché. Intolerable.

He closed his eyes, willing the memory from his mind as he breathed in and let out one steady, measured, calming breath, then another. It was over. He was safe now. No one needed to know. 

With a decisive nod of his head and a final sip of tea, he set the cup in the sink and picked up his umbrella and briefcase. On to business. He had an important meeting this morning and the sooner he got in to review the briefings, the better. 

~  
Mycroft filed the last of his reports away and yawned. He had started early negotiating with Tokyo, but now even though it was only half seven in the evening and he was free. While debating the various merits of heading out for dinner versus making a simple sandwich and watching an old movie, his phone buzzed.

**Sherlock’s fine.**

Mycroft smiled. The Detective Inspector always opened their conversations that way. Unless, of course, Sherlock wasn’t.

**Got time for a drink?**

All of a sudden, Mycroft felt far less tired. **Yes, actually. I was just wrapping up here. Where shall I meet you? MH**

 **Remember that place we went after we dropped Sherlock at rehab? Before he started really working with me?**

It was a smaller pub, but more out of the way. Not too crowded to talk. Rarely any nonsense with pub quizzes or other contests to contend with. A drink there with Gregory, or a few, might actually be relaxing. 

**Of course. See you soon. -MH**

He smiled as he finished packing up and caught himself actually whistling as he texted his driver. Anthea stifled a smile before she gave him the rundown of tomorrow’s schedule and said goodnight. He shook his head and schooled himself to conduct himself with more decorum, at least until he made it out of the office. 

When he arrived, Mycroft drew a sharp breath as he caught sight of Greg at the table. He had chosen a booth far away from the central crowd, if you could even call ten other patrons a “crowd”. Moreover, it was in a corner, so Mycroft could have his back to the wall rather than the door. Greg had observed well. 

Mycroft also noted that he looked unwontedly nervous for a casual night at the pub. He’d gotten a haircut and the silver strands gleamed even under the dim light. Mycroft’s mouth felt dry. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man, not some teenager and Greg was his **friend** , he tried to remind himself, tamping down his feelings. There was no way Greg could ever be interested in him. Their friendship was enough. Wonderful, really. 

He approached the booth and slid in. 

Greg gave him an anxious smile, sliding over a drink. Apparently it had been a Guinness sort of day, not one which required whisky. Greg made small talk about his day as the alcohol did its work and they both relaxed. By the second pint, Mycroft had removed his suit coat and was adding more to the conversation.

When Greg signaled for a third round Mycroft absently undid his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves. Greg smiled at him, though that quickly turned to concern as he caught sight of Mycroft’s wrists. 

Mycroft followed his gaze, seeing the rope burn from the night before. _Merde._

He began rolling the sleeve back down with alacrity, only for Greg to catch his hand. “Who did this to you?”

Mycroft could feel his face warm. “It’s nothing.”

“Mycroft,” Greg said, his voice warm with admonishing concern, but there was a gleam of something else in his eyes and where he held Mycroft’s hand, their connection felt electric.

Mycroft swallowed hard and leaned in and whispered, “I wasn’t abducted or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just slipped. It isn’t a cause for concern.” He wished his tone didn’t sound so clipped, but it had been years since he’d talked about about any of this with another soul.

Greg pitched his voice just as low, “And, was anyone there to catch you. When you,” he paused significantly, “slipped?”

Mycroft felt heat rise up in his checks, ruefully certain he must be flushed scarlet. Greg obviously knew what he’d been up to. He took a quiet, calm breath, looking Greg over before he answered. He was leaning in rather than away at the revelation, lips slightly parted, pupils dilating visibly though nothing had changed about the lighting. More than a little interested, then. Mycroft cleared his throat. “No. Quite alone, in fact.” 

“Better to have back up in dangerous situations. Isn’t that what you keep telling me when I’m dealing with criminals?”

Mycroft’s eyes widened and Greg allowed his thumb to trace gently over the rope burn. 

Mycroft didn’t stop himself from licking his lips, though he knew it was a tell. “You mean you’d like to…” Mycroft trailed off not quite sure how to finish this sentence. Especially not in public. 

“I’d invite you back to mine now, but not after three rounds. Tomorrow night, though? If you’re willing,” Greg said. 

Mycroft pulled his hand away to tap at his phone, checking the calendar, and gave a slight nod. 

Greg reached for Mycroft’s unlocked phone, tugging it gently from his loose fingers. It was slow enough that Mycroft could have protested, could have taken it back. He didn’t.

Greg opened his own contact and entered his address, then added their date to the calendar, speaking as he did so. “Come around at half nine.” He handed back the phone. “If you get caught up at work, or just decide this isn’t on, call me. Don’t cancel with a text unless your safety depends on it.”

Mycroft could not recall another instance of being honestly struck dumb in his life. He nodded, eyes wide and wondering. He had a date. With Greg.

Greg took his hand again and bent down to gently kiss Mycroft’s abraded wrist. 

Finding his voice, Mycroft asked, “May I drop you at home? The driver can be here in a moment, if you’d like.”

Greg smiled. “Ta. Be much better than a cab.”

Greg insisted on paying their tab and they found themselves outside. When the car arrived, Greg opened the door for Mycroft. He’d thought of such gestures as rather, well, silly, before, but when Greg did it, it somehow just made him feel warm and cared for. He got in the car and Greg went round and settled next to him.

He gave the driver the address and then reached out in the darkness of the car and took Greg’s hand, sighing contentedly. 

~  
The following evening found Mycroft buzzing with anticipation. He didn’t do this. What-ifs circled his mind, but as he had done so much to impress upon Sherlock, it was folly to theorize in advance of the facts. He couldn’t know what would happen until this started. 

At half nine precisely, he’d arrived at Greg’s doorstep with his heart in his throat, mentally admonishing himself. _Breathe, Holmes. Steady on._ He could finesse the political landscape the world over. Surely he could manage a… whatever this was, with an old friend. He knocked.

Greg looked radiantly happy to see him. He ushered him in and offered him tea. While he fetched it, Mycroft took the liberty of folding his jacket over a nearby chair and kneeling. The carpet was soft beneath him.

Mycroft swallowed hard and loosened his tie. He wasn’t ready to take it off yet and besides, sometimes people had liked to pull him around by it. It had been ages and this wasn’t going to be the same. This was Greg. He knew Greg. He wouldn’t change the rules on him. It would be fine.

Greg reemerged with the tea and gasped at the sight, but his steps didn’t falter. He did not stoop when he handed Mycroft the teacup, merely holding it out with a smile. His voice was steady and warm when he asked, “Comfortable?”

Mycroft looked down, not fidgeting, but internally far from calm. “Yes...” He took a sip of tea, then added quietly, “What shall I call you?

“I prefer Sir. Easy to say. Not as pretentious as any of this ‘Grand Master so and so’ bull,” Greg chuckled, then sobered, glancing down at Mycroft. “Unless that’s your kink?”

Mycroft smiled back. “No, ‘Sir’ will do just fine.”

“Rope is obvious, but otherwise, what do you like?”

“You, Sir. Everything else is negotiable.” Mycroft dared a glance up at Greg, then back down at the floor.

“Cheeky, but I like that about you. I’ll tell you what I like, then, shall I?”

“As pleases you, Sir. Knowing would make it easier to serve.”

Greg chuckled. “You do like the formalities a bit, yeah? And you also know you didn’t quite answer. Lucky for you, I like a quick wit. As long as it’s applied with the wisdom of when to use it and when to shut up.” Greg circled around him. “You know I like a good scotch, but never before I play. Occasionally after. I like a partner who is just as comfortable on their knees as across the table from me at dinner, so if you’d like to use the chair you are more than welcome to it. We’ll be talking a fair bit before anything else. ”

He paused long enough that Mycroft looked up, meeting Greg’s eyes as he shook his head. 

Greg shrugged. “Your choice. I like rope, my tawse, and the feel of my hand warming an arse now and then. It’s more intimate. Personal. And I like that I feel it, too. I can do a bit of pain, but I’m not really a sadist. I want us both to enjoy whatever we get up to.”

Mycroft smiled at this, looking up through lowered lashes. 

“I should mention, if I just wanted a quick spank and fuck, I’ve never had trouble pulling, even grey as I’ve gone up top.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Not what I’m interested in. If this is a one off, you might as well find the door. I’m not willing to risk our friendship for that. I care about you, Mycroft. I don’t want to mess that up. If we both decide it doesn’t work, that’s another story, but I’m going in with the hope that it will. So now, I want you to speak freely. You can drop the honorifics for now. Sit or kneel as you’re comfortable, and tell me honestly, what are you into, Mycroft?”

 _Fuck._ Mycroft sat back on his heels and hissed out a breath. He closed his eyes. “Rope. I like the feel of it. I like when it leaves marks, but not anywhere that would show in a suit. Rope burn is a nice reminder from a scene, but I’ve never done it to myself on purpose. I don’t mind physical discipline and can get off from spanking or caning if the pacing is right, but don’t enjoy torture scenarios. Too close to work gone badly.” Mycroft’s haze drifted to middle distance as he remembered. “I was caught once as a field agent.” He shook himself, drawing back to the present. “Obviously, I was extracted and it was fairly early in my career, but something to be aware of. Other than that, I’m fairly open to trying things. Oh, and you don’t seem to have a penchant for lingerie or heels, but I don’t like them.” 

Mycroft paused, considering how much to say. It wasn’t like him to express his feelings so readily, but he wanted to with Greg. Honesty was the only way this could work. “I don’t want a one off. I don’t trust easily and I want to trust you. I never thought you could want me. However, I never know how much free time I might have. I think I’ll be a terrible boyfriend and likely a terrible sub, but I want to try.”

“Don’t seem terrible to me. I gave you a time and that’s when you appeared. I asked you to drop the honorifics for this, you did. I asked you to tell me what you liked, and you did. You told me enough to get on with at first and you followed orders. Seems like a good sub to me. Not to mention you’re bloody gorgeous.”

Mycroft couldn’t help his reaction to the praise. His face warmed and he was certain he’d blushed all the way to the roots of his auburn hair. Ridiculous.

However, the way Greg’s eyes crinkled and his mouth twitched up at the corners, he seemed to find the blushing adorable. “I mentioned the tawse. Ever experienced that?”

Mycroft bit his lip. “I’ve seen a tawse, but honestly never felt one. I’m open to it. Hands are fine, too. No belts, though, please. My last partner in university, had a penchant for household items. Belts, wooden spoons, hangers. I put up with it to get what I needed.” 

“I don’t want you to ‘put up with’ anything. We’re both into it or we find something else to do. This will only work for me if you’re honest.”

“I _was_ honest.” Mycroft said flatly. “He just didn’t care.”

“That’s just not on!” 

“According to Geoffrey doing whatever he wanted with me rather was the point.” Mycroft wanted to aim for some sort of defiant indignation, but instead let the truth of the situation stand. He smiled sadly for a moment, letting himself feel the weight of that absolute train wreck of a relationship again, then added softly, “For too long, I believed him.”

“Well, none of that here. You won’t win yourself any favors by enduring and I don’t get off fucking around with consent. I want you to like it, or love that I like it and get off on that aspect. Otherwise it’s no fun. That clear?”

Mycroft’s smile brightened. “Yes, sir.”

“On that note, you’ll need a safeword. You familiar with those? Anything you’re unlikely to say in the moment. Or we could just use the traffic lights. Red for stop, etc.”

Mycroft laughed. “Blueberry.”

“Blueberry.” Lestrade repeated back. “Any reason?”

“I’ve just never cared for them.”

“Fair enough. So if I held up a hanger you’d say…?”

“Blueberry.” Mycroft offered immediately.

“Good,” Greg said, stroking Mycroft’s hair. “Is this fine?”

Mycroft hummed inquisitively.

“Touching your hair. Is it fine?”

“Oh, certainly.” Mycroft actually leaned into the touch. It felt good. 

“Tonight, I’m thinking just rope and some basic sensation play. Do you want to try the tawse and see if you like it or is it too close to a belt, you think?” He crossed to a large leather bag beside the couch and pulled it out, passing it over to Mycroft.

He took it, running his fingers over the thick, smooth leather as he considered. “Another time, if that is alright with you, sir,” he said at last.

Greg took it back and slipped it back in the bag, drawing out some navy rope instead, which he passed over. 

Mycroft looked it over and nodded, handing it back. Hemp. Lovely color. Well maintained and good quality. 

“Last topic, I think, before we begin; how far do you want this to go tonight?”

Mycroft looked up, brow slightly furrowed.

“Remember, we aren’t doing anything you don’t want. Are you comfortable being completely naked with me? May I strip you?”

Mycroft bit his lip, nodding.

“And how do you feel about sex?”

“That’s generally part of the deal, isn’t it?”

Greg smiled. “Only if you’d like. Had plenty of scenes without, though. And,” he tilted Mycroft’s chin up, “that wasn’t an answer.”

Mycroft struggled not to avert his gaze, but managed to look at Greg steadily. "I was a virgin until uni. Even then-” Mycroft cleared his throat, “Even with like-minded partners, I found that, generally speaking, I cared more for the punishments than rewards. Luckily, my personality led many to think punishments were just what I needed.

“You don’t like sex, then.” His tone surprised Mycroft. It was just a statement of fact. Greg didn’t sound put off or disappointed. More like he was gathering evidence. 

Based on his past experiences it was tempting to leave it there, but he did want to trust Greg, and the whole truth might serve him better in the long run. “I’m not sure. Some things are fantastic.” He paused, memories of blissfully sucking cock washing over him. God it had been so long. “But I haven’t cared for penetration. I don’t think it is supposed to hurt quite like that. I wasn’t supposed to say no to Geoff and I think when I tried, well, he relished reminding me of my place. Don’t misunderstand, I wanted to have sex, it just…” 

“Bloody hell, Mycroft. It isn’t supposed to be like that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Mycroft said quietly. 

Greg nodded and was silent a moment, just stroking Mycroft’s hair before responding, “Thank you for telling me.”

“Is there anything else you think I should know to take care of you?”

Mycroft shook his head. 

“Alright, Greg said with a decisive nod of his head. “Stand. Finished with your tea?” 

Mycroft nodded and Greg set the cup aside then raised his hands to Mycroft’s tie, grinning. “You won’t admit it, but this stage is making you nervous.”

Mycroft’s eyes darted away from a moment, but he did not comment.

“Look, once I know what this is going to be, I’ll be more directive. Promise. So, just a few more questions. I want to be perfectly clear. May I touch you sexually if I choose? Or have you touch me, or yourself? Denial can also be fun, but not really effective if you aren’t likely to be aroused. You haven’t liked some of the sex you’ve had, and I want our time together to be good for you. Just tying you up is already going to be a treat for me.”

Mycroft looked down. Greg was reading him well. Once they got going, this had the potential to be exquisite. He took a steadying breath then met Greg’s eyes. “I do like some things.” his blush deepened. “I’ve done things on my own that were quite enjoyable. Tonight, you may touch me anywhere. The surrender to your desire is important to me and I think I am going to enjoy being under your hands. You may have me stroke you off if you’d like. No fluid exchange and no penetration of any kind. Not this time, anyway.”

Greg slipped Mycroft’s tie off and moved on to his buttons, slipping his shirt off and laying it over the chair. “Thank you. I can definitely work with that.” He ran a hand soothingly over Mycroft’s shoulder. “Now we’re ready. Take off the rest of your kit, grab the bag, and follow me.” 

Mycroft eagerly did as he was told.

~  
After an absolute debacle at work which had taken 24 hours straight to sort, Mycroft came home and barely even managed to warm over a tin of soup and eat it before he collapsed for twelve hours. He awoke to the chime of his phone and blinked blearily at it.

**Sherlock is fine. Still up for a little R and R today? I know it’s been a tough week.**

Mycroft chuckled at their acronym. It looked to anyone else like the traditional ‘rest and relaxation’, which would be apropos considering his week. He’d had occasion to use it as code for a mission of “reconnaissance and recovery,” which thankfully wasn’t needed at the moment. To them, though, it meant rope and rod. It turned out that Greg liked a cane and wielded it well. The shorthand encompassed any of their scenes, but most did contain those two elements. 

**Looking forward to it. MH** Mycroft had to stop himself from adding “sir”. They’d agreed that nothing would be that overt in writing, which never stopped him from thinking it.

**See you at half 8 at the usual place?**

**See you then MH**

He bathed and dressed, and lastly tucked a printout from his physician into an inner pocket of his jacket, smiling at the thought. If Gregory had managed to fit in a doctor’s visit as well, things might get even more interesting tonight.

~

Mycroft knelt on the floor of the living room, grateful for the beautiful fire in the hearth. Even bare as he was, the room was reasonably warm. He took a deep breath and let it out dropping his shoulders, clenching and unclenching his fists. He’d had asked to try the tawse this time and he wanted to, but the newness of it, the lack of surety in his own limits and reactions made him nervous. And if he was perfectly honest, other things they’d negotiated tonight weren’t making him any calmer, as much as he wanted them.

Greg returned, the familiar cane Mycroft had bought for him tucked under his arm and the tawse and a bundle of deep green ropes in his hands. He wore only the bottoms to his black pyjamas and Mycroft admired the view. Greg set things down on the side table and circled around Mycroft, eyeing him with a predatory smile that made Mycroft shiver, heat building low in his belly. 

Greg stopped behind him, the familiar weight of his hand coming to rest on Mycroft’s back. “We’ll warm up with something you are used to tonight.” He swung the cane, making it whistle through the air, so Mycroft knew what was coming. He tapped the cane lightly in a series of quick taps against Mycroft’s arms, sensitizing the skin. He chased the sensation with a light caress of his hand and proceeded with the same technique against his outer thighs, then his arse. He repeated motions with a firmer stroke, making Mycroft gasp. 

“Up,” Greg ordered, pulling Mycroft to his feet. He kissed him hard then manhandled him into place, bending him over the back of the plush armchair. Greg pressed against him and Mycroft felt Greg’s arousal against his backside as Greg brought the cane down across his shoulders, the intensity of it like a line of fire. Mycroft hissed in a sharp breath between clenched teeth.

“Beautiful,” Greg murmured, tracing the welt before bringing the cane down a couple inches lower. He rocked his hips against Mycroft as he traced the next mark. Mycroft wriggled and pushed back against him with a moan. 

Greg kissed Mycroft’s shoulder then stepped away. Aiming lower, he rained a series of sharp blows across the plush cheeks of Mycroft’s arse, making him tense and cry out.

The cane clattered back onto the table and Greg picked up the tawse, running the cool, smooth leather over Mycroft’s heated skin.

“You’re going to count these for me, beautiful. If you don’t, or you lose track, I’m going to start over. We’ll try ten for now.” 

Mycroft internally scoffed. As if he couldn’t manage to count to-- oh God. The force of the thick twin leather straps took him by surprise and it was a moment before he found his voice. “One.” 

“One, what?

“One, thank you?”

“Try again.”

“One, thank you, Sir?

“That’s it. Starting over with the proper address, then, shall we?” Greg’s tawse came down again, stinging heat spreading over Mycroft’s arse in the wake of the blow. 

“One-thank-you-Sir.” Mycroft said all in a rush.

He could hear the smile in Greg’s voice as he answered, “Much better.” 

By the time the count was finished, Mycroft’s arse was sensitive to the softest of caresses. Greg dropped the tawse to the carpet and crouched down to kiss each cheek, his tongue darting out to run along the raised welts. “So good for me Mycroft. God, you took that so well.”

Mycroft felt the prickle of tears at his eyes at the sheer tenderness. Greg’s lips and tongue as soothing as his praise. At a tap on his inner thighs, Mycroft spread his legs. . 

“And you liked it, I take it?” Greg said, reaching around to stroke Mycroft’s hard, aching cock.

“Mmm, very much, sir.” 

“Good.” Greg gave another firm stroke, then released Mycroft’s cock. 

Mycroft whimpered at the loss, his hips thrusting into empty air, seeking friction and more of Greg’s touch. 

Greg simply stood and drew Mycroft up as well as he continued, “And you are sure you want to show your appreciation like we discussed?”

Mycroft glanced down and licked his lips. “Yes, sir. If it pleases you to use my mouth I am more than ready.”

Greg hummed affirmatively. “Just a little ornamentation first.” He picked up the rope and began wrapping it around Mycroft’s chest and biceps, binding his upper arms in place. He moaned at the silky feel of it whispering over his skin as Greg twisted and knotted around his torso. He left space between the ropes to access Mycroft’s nipples. He brushed them lightly with his thumbs. They pebbled, growing hard under his caresses. He leaned forward into the touch until Greg pinched them. Mycroft yelped and arched back, then blushed, mortified.

Greg chuckled. “A little much?”

Mycroft cleared his throat. “No, I just wasn’t expecting it, sir.”

Mycroft whimpered when Greg did it again, but he didn’t move away this time and his cock twitched, too, a jolt of desire rushing through him at surrendering to Greg’s desires. 

“Nearly done,” Greg said, adding in another section of rope over Mycroft’s breast bone. Mycroft looked down, watching Greg’s dexterous hands in rapt fascination as he folded the length in half and wove it over and under from the bottom of the center front to the top, parted it to wrap up over his shoulders, typing a loop into each one. 

Greg stood back, admiring his handiwork. “You should see yourself. You are so beautiful like this.” He licked his lips, running his fingers over the ropework then Mycroft’s nipples again. 

Mycroft smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s objective fact, not just my opinion. Should be paintings of you like this. Hang it in the National Gallery.” 

Mycroft shot him a look then turned away. “You shouldn’t tease.”

Greg stroked a hand over his back and tilted his chin up, so he had to meet Greg’s eyes. “You are beautiful, Mycroft Holmes. Never been more serious in my life. Just because you’re blind to it doesn’t make it any less true.” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes dismissively, earning him a swat on the arse.

“Don’t get sassy on me.”

Mycroft chuckled. “No, sir. Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

Greg’s eyes narrowed and then he tumbled Mycroft back onto the floor, pinning him there. 

For one moment, Mycroft’s eyes widened in near-panic. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pushed his luck. Then Greg’s smile turned positively wicked and he began to tickle.

Mycroft tried to stay stoic at first, but Greg was relentless, seeking out all the most sensitive spots. Soon Mycroft was squirming and giggling so hard he could hardly catch his breath, eventually resorting to the triple tap they’d worked out for when he was gagged. 

Greg stopped immediately, sitting up and looking Mycroft over. Mycroft’s giggles subsided and he breathed more deeply. 

“Breathless with giggles is also portrait worthy, in case you were wondering.”

Mycroft shook his head. _How did he ever find this man who could hurt him so deliciously and still be so very, very tender?_

Greg brushed his cheek softly. “I was serious you know. About you being a work of art. You are.” His gaze was unmistakably aroused, pupils wide and dark. Mycroft’s eyes wandered lower to Greg’s tented pyjama bottoms and he licked his lips. His stomach clenched and he tamped down on the nervous voice telling him he was out of practice, would never be good enough, and focused instead on the fact that he could hardly wait to touch Greg. 

Greg looped his fingers into the handholds he’d tied at Mycroft’s shoulders and tugged him down. “Go on then.”

Mycroft knelt. And leant forward, nuzzling his face into Greg’s groin. The musky scent of him was positively delicious.

They worked together to slip Greg’s pyjamas off and Mycroft gasped at his first sight of Greg's cock. 

In all their scenes, he had yet to see Greg completely naked. Greg had spilled onto his back, when Mycroft had been restrained on his stomach and couldn’t turn his head to see. And once he had been allowed to stroke Greg off, but he’d been blindfolded at the time.

He was exquisite. Thick and flushed dusky rose. His foreskin was fully retracted and as Mycroft gazed with rapt fascination, Greg’s cock pulsed, a pearly drop of precome forming at the tip.

Mycroft’s hand didn’t tremble when he reached for Greg, but it was a near thing. He cupped Greg’s balls lightly, licked his lips, then leant forward to mouth at his gorgeous cock. He licked from root to crown. 

Greg moaned and Mycroft repeated the motion, adding a swirl of his tongue around the head that made Greg rock forward, seeking more. After a few more swipes of his tongue, he took Greg in his mouth and began to suck in earnest. He stroked whatever wasn’t in his mouth and hoped he was making up for any lack of technique with enthusiasm. It had been so long since he’d done this, but there was no denying Greg’s appreciation. His moans made Mycroft’s own cock throb with desire.

Greg pulled at the loops of rope at Mycroft’s shoulders, keeping him close. “God, Mycroft, yes. Just like that.” 

Mycroft’s jaw was beginning to ache but he desperately wanted to please Greg, to bring him off.

Greg let go of the ropes in favor of cupping the back of Mycroft’s head and tugging at his short hair. Mycroft moaned and took Greg as deep as he could, swallowing around the head before bobbing up and down increasing both his pace and suction. 

“My— I’m going to…” Greg warned. Mycroft didn’t pause, groaning as he swallowed the first pulse of Greg’s come.

Mycroft pulled back, giving Greg a final stroke then lapping the last bead of come from the slit. He was certain his lips were swollen, but with the taste of Greg’s desire heavy on his tongue. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face. He knew he must look as self-satisfied as like a cat who caught the canary. 

Greg looked down with unexpected fondness. “You are an absolute delight. You know that?” He pulled Mycroft up and kissed him deeply, tracing his palm down over Mycroft’s cheek. “So good,” he murmured, drawing Mycroft down the hall to his bedroom. 

Greg got into bed and patted the spot beside him.

Mycroft curled up, pillowing his cheek on Greg’s warm thigh. He appreciated the contrast of the tight, cool ropes and Greg’s exploring hands. Greg stroked his hair and rubbed his shoulders and neck until Mycroft nearly drifted off, despite the dull ache of his own unfulfilled desire.

“I’d like to see you.” Greg whispered.

Mycroft roused and looked down at his own form, nude except for the ropes Greg had seen fit to package him in. He looked back up with an almost coy smile. “No one sees more of me than you, sir.” 

Greg shook his head, shaking with silent laughter. “Not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Oh…” Mycroft closed his eyes and reached down, taking himself in hand. He gave himself a slow pull. 

Beside him, Greg rumbled a low moan of appreciation deep in his throat. 

His own touch felt different with Greg’s gaze on him. Electric. Mycroft’s lips parted and he drew a shuddering breath as he stroked himself again. 

“That’s it, love. Show me what you like.”

Mycroft opened his eyes at the word ‘love’, nearly distracted from his task by it, but the heat in Greg’s eyes spurred him on. He rubbed his thumb over the crown spreading the thick drop of precome around before making a tight O of his fist and thrusting up into it. He moaned and shuddered, wrapped tightly in Greg’s ropes. He bit his lip, stifling his cries as he stroked himself faster, his palm sliding against the slick head on every upstroke..

Greg leaned low, whispering appreciation and endearments, making him intimately aware that he was watching. He squeezed the base of his cock, prolonging his pleasure. Mycroft was lost in sensation, beyond processing language, but spurred on by Greg’s desire-roughened voice at his ear.

At last, Mycroft stiffened and curled in on himself, shaking as his pleasure crested, splashing his stomach and chest, the green ropes dotted with white. When he came back to himself, Greg was pulling him up into his arms, heedless of the mess. 

He kissed him deep and slow until they were both breathless. “Beautiful, Mycroft. I loved watching you. I wasn’t sure you were ready to put on such a show for me. I’m glad you wanted to. But I meant...” he paused, somewhat wrong-footed which was unusual for him in general and especially on these nights. 

Mycroft inclined his head inquiringly.

Greg seemed to come back to himself. “I meant I want to see you again. Outside of the bedroom. Could you be free Saturday night. Say, 9 or so? Barring emergencies like murders or international crises, of course.”

“I think that could be arranged. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to take you out. A proper date, if that would be alright.”

Mycroft smiled and nodded, “I’d like that.” He kissed Greg and slipped out of bed, cleaning off in the ensuite. When he returned, Greg was cleaned up too, lounging on the bed in a pair of black silk pants. Mycroft hesitated, his gaze flickering from Greg to the door. 

Greg watched with a fond smile. “You don’t need to rush off, you know. Unless you want to.”

Mycroft looked at him uncertainly. “I don’t have anything pressing. If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. Would you like to stay tonight? I make a fine fry up, I’m told and-”

“I’d love to,” Mycroft broke in.

“Now, let’s get you comfortable.” Greg reached for him and Mycroft came back to bed. Greg efficiently untied the ropes and tossed them off the bed. He drew Mycroft down holding him close and settling the comforter over them. Under the blankets, he traced the indentations left by the rope. It usually only took a few minutes for those to fade, leaving Mycroft unmarked, so he always took advantage of the opportunity right after releasing him from the binding.

Mycroft shivered. “It tickles.” he said, embarrassed at how petulant he sounded.

Greg chuckled and stroked over Mycroft’s hair and down his back with a firmer hand. 

Mycroft melted against him, head resting on Greg’s chest, lulled by his soothing touch and the soft beating of his heart. Contented. Safe. Home.


End file.
